Fly
by kurt couper
Summary: But it doesn't really matter anymore. Because once I lose everything bad. The guilt. The filth. The lies. The hatred. The emotions. Then I'll be weightless enough to soar. I'll fly through the clouds and never look back. SpikeDawn friendship COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Buffy's dead and not comming back. This is set after season 5. And is in Dawn's point of view. I don't own anything, blah blah.

* * *

She's dead, you know. Down in the ground. Rotting in the soil. Feeding the worms. Decomposing in a wooden box. Just skeleton and ash. Soon all that will be left is teeth and bones.

It makes me wonder what happened to her insides. Not her organs. Liver. Heart. Brain. Kidneys. But her _soul_. Did it float into the sky to be with God and Mom? Go into a box to be recreated into something better? Or did it _evaporate_. Turn into nothingness and swirl with the sky to be with the stars.

After everything that has happened, I don't believe in heaven. Or a god. God. Gods. I don't pray to the Powers that Be. Or the saints that are gold-encrusted into charms on necklaces. _Oh please Saint Clare: Save me from every evil - of soul and body. _Right. Even if there was a god, why would he listen to a wretched soul like me? There are millions-_billions_-of more righteous people that are just like..._better_ than me.

Why would I be so special for someone to hear what I wish for?

Because I'm not, you know. I'm just _a broken heart that the world forgot_.

Wow, what's up with the quoting lyrics today?

I take another deep drag on the cigarette that's between my lips. I then place it in my fingers and stare as the red embers eat away at the white paper. The end turns to ash and blows away in the wind. Tapping it against the shingles on the roof, I ash it off. The embers are almost at the filter and I know this will be the last drag. Blowing out the smoke, I watch it twirl in the sky.

Dance. Dance. Fly away. Go some place better.

I smudge the flame against the assault shingles and flick the filter into the night sky. Though I can't see it, it lands on the ground. In amongst a giant pile of cigarette butts.

My aim has gotten near about _perfect_ these past weeks.

Taking one last look out on the night sky, I raise my body and step through the window.

A distressed and equally worried Tara greets me in my room. A nervous frown is placed on her face. Lately Tara has been all about tense glances and concerned smiles. She's been the only one that's really noticed me. Or at least _tried_ to.

"Dawn," she says and her voice is so quiet and scared.

I think she thought I was going to jump. Will jump. One day jump. Splattered brains and blood and guts. No more breathing and no more heartbeat. Just a closed casket viewing and a polished stone.

I try to forget how good that sounds.

"You shouldn't smoke. It's bad for you."

Her words were so hushed that they seemed harsh. But they didn't penetrate through me.

I ignored her standing in the middle of my room and walked over to my closet. I stripped my shirt off and pants, making sure the front of my body was hidden from view and put on a tank top and some shorts. I then slipped into my bed.

Tara walked out quietly and shut the door behind her. It almost made me feel bad about the way I was treating her. But it didn't in a way. She should stay out of my fucking life. It was mine. The only thing left I had that _was_ mine. And all I wanted to was to live it out my own way.

But I guess you really couldn't call what I've been doing since _she_ died living. I've just been existing in a world that I never belonged. I actually hate it here. Everything went so slow and fast at the same time. And when it was going slow, I was going fast. And vice versa. I was trapped here. In hell. In a world that no one cared.

But it's okay. Because one day, I'm going to fly.

* * *

I know, I know. I need to stop playing this say old song. One day I'll write about different things. But I need a muse to have that. R&R. Hope you liked it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Buffy's dead. Placed after season 6. Dawn's pov.

* * *

Molasses.

The ground I walk on is like molasses. It sticks to the bottom of my feet and drags me in. Everything becomes stiff and difficult and I can't get out.

I can never get out.

It's like plaque for the soul and it eats me up and tears me apart. Pieces of me are left in the syrup. I think I left my heart way back when. And now I'm just falling to pieces.

But it doesn't really matter anymore. Because once I lose everything bad. The sins. The guilt. The filth. The lies. The hatred. The emotions. Then I'll be weightless enough to soar. No more quicksand. No more falling. I'll fly through the clouds and never look back.

Because there will be nothing to look back to.

It's dark out now and I know that I've slept all day. Lately, I've realized that I'm either sleeping the day away or staying awake all night. There was never balance. Not like there used to be.

I dress myself in jeans and a t-shirt. Then I take a comb through my hair. It feels rough against my scalp and I continue.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

How many strokes does it take to make my hair shinny?

One hundred was the fairy-book rule.

Can I get that far?

I walk downstairs to find that I'm alone. Willow and Tara must be at a meeting. Checking the fridge for any notes, I find one.

"Off to Giles."

Three words. Three fucking words. Nice to know I'm worth three words. Hell, I'm not even worth a full sentence.

I decide to go out for a walk. Go to my thinking place. Where no one would see me. Not that they would look for me anywhere. They've given up on me. Given up on everything. Grabbing my jacket, I saunter out the door and into the night.

The air surrounds me like a blanket. And I'm so cold. _So cold_. It's seeping down into my bones and I feel like it will never get out. Like it's trapped inside. I want so much to get it out. To become free of this ice that has been laced between bones and muscles. Because it has frozen me. Frozen my insides. My heart. My brain. It's stopped the function of everything and turned me cold. Turned me heartless.

Turned me numb.

Climbing up the ladder of the Sunnydale water tower, I ignore the coldness. Though it's hard because the wind is ripping through me. I finally get to the top and I lay down on the curved ground. It's amazing how big this tower is. The surface swallows me up and makes me feel tiny. Reminds me of the big world we live in.

I found this place a couple of weeks ago. I guess I was just looking for something high. Because being close too the sky, meant being closer to Mom and Buffy. I felt connected in that sense.

And we _all_ like to feel connected.

Staring at the night sky, I watch it change from darkness into light.

And I don't move until hours later, after the sun retreats from its highest place in the sky.

* * *

This story is, maybe, one chapter fromfinished. (As in I'vewriten them) I just have to upload the chapters and post them.

Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Buffy's dead. Dawn's numb. Oh what ever will happen?

I don't own anything.

* * *

"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, her head in her hands and a distressed appearance was written on her face.

"She didn't even come home last night. I have no clue where she is. She could be doing... I wouldn't put anything past her."

Words were spoken in a rush and I tried to make them out. I felt appalled at Tara for saying such things.

"She's fine. Probably at one of her bloody friend's house," Spike reassured the blonde witch and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

I know he could hear my heart. Probably smell me. He is a vampire after all. I climbed up into my room by the tree and I'm now up stairs, listening in on the two's conversation. I think Tara is crying. She seems so worn out.

I did that too her.

"No, Spike. She's _not_ fine. You don't see her like I do," Tara spoke with a quiet voice. She took a deep breath and continued. "She never talks. Or eats. Or does anything. She leaves without telling us where she goes."

My body turns cold as she's talking. Who gives her the right to tell this to anyone? And to Spike, no less. Who gives her the right to even care?

"I can't control her. I never really could. I don't know what to do. I want what's best for her. That might involve social services. Because I obviously can't give her what she needs."

And I've heard enough. I go into my room and shut the door, blocking the voices from entering my brain. I climb out the window again and onto the roof. And everything's peaceful again.

There is no social services here or Tara or Spike or portals where sisters die. Or lost souls. Or cancer.

There was just me and the sky. Free-falling and being weightless.

Oh what a beautiful feeling.

Suddenly, I'm being ripped from that world and into this harsh one. Everything is being pushed on me and it's hard to breathe.

"The bint's really thinkin' 'bout calling a social worker, you know. So you better get your act together," Spike says, while joining me out on the roof. He crouches down and sits beside me.

"Shouldn't smoke; 's bad for you," he says when he pulls a cigg out from its carton and places it between his lips. He lights it and exhales.

I give a smirk. He knows I smoke. He can smell it on me. But he's giving his disclaimer and I nod all the same. I place my own fag between my fingers and light it.

"Yeah. It's real bad."

And I inhale real deep, in spite of myself.

Take a couple more years off. Let the nicotine plague my lungs. Suffocate my air capacity. Kill me faster. Let the Surgeon General be right. Come on, kill me.

_I dare you_.

* * *

Okay, me and mom just got in a big fight and I'm about to fucking scream. And I might be grounded. So, I think I'll post the rest of the story now.

R&R. Thanks. KC.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Buffy's dead and not comming back. This is set after season 5. And is in Dawn's point of view. I don't own anything, blah blah.

* * *

She did it. Did the unthinkable. Went behind my back and killed me faster.

She called social services.

But it will be okay because they won't find me. After she called, I went up to the water tower. I've been here for hours and it's now dark out. I still can't get it passed my brain that she did what she did.

I don't even want to think about it anymore.

Sometimes, when everything is still and quiet and dead, I like to think what would have happened if I jumped. If I died. If I could be labeled a hero. But who lets an old Key become something great?

It's weird. Lately, when I look in the mirror and look past the horrible figure that I see being reflected, I can see the seems of my life breaking away. Like my green energy is becoming too much to handle and it's forcing this skin to peel and break and scar and fall apart. It scares me. But, in a way, it's reassuring. Reassures my ultimate goal: to fly. Because maybe one day this shell will decompose and crumble and shatter and I'll finally be able to break out and be free. Fly away to somewhere better.

I've thought about cutting the skin off. But it wouldn't work like that. I'd still result in blood and tendons and bones.

And that's the things I want to take away. Everything physical. Everything harsh. Everything that is keeping me alive.

The sun is slowly dropping low into the sky and it's getting colder. Doesn't it seem to be cold a lot? Or is it just that I have no other recognition of temperature? The skin that is tight on my bones produces goose bumps.

It must be cold out. It has to be.

The night's real dark now. No far-away stars or reflected light from the sun on the moon to lighten the blackness. And the inky blackness made me feel insufficient. Made me feel small. Made everything in my body go tight. And all my emotions just reduced into fitting into a pin point.

It really made everything so clear.

Hearing the steady, yet dull, beating in my chest, I knew it was right.

I knew I finally felt free enough to fly.

I stepped to the farthest I could go to the rounded edge and look down. I'm pretty bad at judging distances (I guess monks didn't find them important), but I would guess 100 feet. I counted over two hundred stairs. I lost count.

But the wind is getting stronger now and I feel it pressing against me. And it's all in my favor.

Everything's perfect. It's like the stars are aligning for me.

But this time there's no portal. No rip in the sky. No blood (until I hit the ground). There's just me and the grass.

Things falls at 9.8 m/s squared. Doesn't matter the weight. Gravity is 9.8 m/s squared. Wind resistance is the only thing that will affect. Will affect me, anyway.

I'm going to have to job at an angle, so I won't hit the stairs.

Everything's going fast now and I can't think. But I don't want to think. Everything flashes before my eyes. And seeing all of it twice makes me want to continue to go faster. My hands are slicing through the air and I'm weightless.

Look at me now, mom. I can finally fly! I never did need that umbrella. I only needed to believe. Did you hear that, mom? Just to believe! If I only knew it was that easy. Easy. It was so easy! If I only tried sooner. If I only...

My heart's beating faster now. And the world has slowed down into distant movements and whistling wind.

Did you feel like this Buffy? When you were dying for me? Did it feel like you were being torn between two worlds? One's calling me to stay here. I can hear it buzzing in my ear. It's telling me of all the things I would loose. _Will_ loose. But then I'm hearing of everything good. It's teasing me with little clips of what you had, Buffy and mom.

But I remember when I was little and going to Church was the right thing to do. People who commit suicide go to hell, mom. I don't want to go to hell. I'm already in hell.

Maybe I already commit suicide and this is where I ended up. Maybe I jumped with you, Buffy. And maybe this was my punishment. Maybe...

I see the ground now and it looks inviting. It seems like it took to long. Oh so very long. I've been waiting my entire life for this. My body was made for this.

And I think of everyone I'm leaving behind. I'm sorry Tara that I broke your heart. I used you up and I never meant to. And I'm sorry Willow that I made you and Xander grow up too fast. Made you lose your best friend that you ever had. And I'm sorry Giles that you lost your daughter because of me. Because I know you wanted to kill me. But that's okay because I wanted to kill me too. And I'm sorry Spike for destroying the love of your life. I'm sorry that you even had to look at me. I don't know how you did.

And I'm mostly sorry for myself because I never got the chance to.

I hope you saved me a spot beside you, mom. Because I'm coming home. But I guess I never really had a home in the first place, did I? Guess I didn't really have a mom or a sister, either. But death's all about adventures, right? That's what Peter Pan said. You used to read me Peter Pan when I was little, mom. I always wanted to be Pan. Never did want to grow up. Guess I'll never have to now, huh? Can I be the littlest angel? You read me that book too. The little boy didn't know what to get Jesus for his birthday. He was so lost, mom. Just like me. Oh mom, I'm so lost. But I'm going to find my way home, right? Is my address tied around my wrist? Who's going to find me? Where am I going to go?

What's going to happen?

And the last thing I see is black. But I can still hear my heart.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Because a heart can be broken, but it keeps on beating just the same.

* * *

This is all I have so far. I'm not sure if I want to continue it or just leave it there. Eh, if I continue it will probably only be one more chapter. Okay. Hope you liked it. R&R. KC 


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